


We the People

by happylikeafool



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Designated Survivor AU, Established Relationship, F/F, President AU, Protostar, Swan-Mills Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 07:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15552456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happylikeafool/pseuds/happylikeafool
Summary: Regina never intended to be President of the United States. She was happy with her life, happy as Secretary of Housing and Development, happy as Emma's wife, happy as the mother of their three children. And then she was appointed Designated Survivor on the night of a State of the Union address where the unthinkable happened.Four years later, as she awaits election results, she reflects on the awful night that changed her, and her family's, life forever.Orhow Regina and Emma became Madam President and Her Swan.





	We the People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BulletStrong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletStrong/gifts).
  * Inspired by [We The People [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684222) by [BulletStrong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletStrong/pseuds/BulletStrong). 



> Thanks to Angela, whose absolutely beautiful protostar art was the inspiration for this fic. 
> 
> Also, thanks to Mari, who ran a boot camp that is at least 80% of the reason this fic got finished.
> 
> And, thanks to the SQSN mods, whose work to organize this thing is so very very much appreciated.
> 
> Quick other note: this fic is partially based on the pilot episode of the show Designated Survivor, and some of the dialogue has been pretty much stolen directly from that. Don't let the summary fool you though, this is at least 50% just Swan-Mills family fluff and wives kissing each other.

**_(Present)_ **

 

It’s early, early enough that the sun streaming in through the windows of the Oval Office is still low in the sky. Despite the hour, there is still some bustle in the halls of the White House -  there is always _some_ bustle here, a fact that Regina had learned quickly.

 

From where she is sitting now on one of the Oval Office couches, reading through a briefing, Regina hears hushed whispering outside the door. She is looking up expectantly when the door finally swings open.

 

It’s Emma. Emma in faded jeans, one of her favourite t-shirts, and a hoodie, her hair hanging loose, curls framing her face. She’s holding a tray with two take away cups from their favourite coffee shop in one had, a paper bag in the other. She grins at Regina, a slow easy smile that fills Regina’s chest with warmth.

 

Regina is incapable, really, of doing anything but smiling back. She quirks an eyebrow. “You’re up early.”

 

Emma shrugs. “The bed was cold. _Someone_ left me there to wake up all alone.” She punctuates that point with a ridiculous pout.

 

Regina rolls her eyes at the expression but she can’t really keep the fondness from her face.

 

Emma grins, moving further into the room, setting the tray and the paper bag down on the coffee table, and dropping onto the couch beside Regina. She sits close enough that their legs are touching and leans into Regina’s side.  

 

“You took an early morning trip, I see,” Regina says, eyeing the items on the coffee table as she closes the folder in her lap and sets it down beside them, pulling her glasses off and folding them up to rest them on top of the folder.

 

“What gave it away?” Emma laughs. “My sneaking out the back door outfit?” she motions to her hoodie and jeans. “Or the contraband?” she motions to the tray and paper bag.        

 

Regina shakes her head, that same fondness filling her chest again, though she can't help but question, “You took Secret Service with you?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes. “ _Duh_ ,” she says like she’s channeling their youngest son.

 

“You say that like you’ve never tried to dodge Secret Service before,” Regina quirks an eyebrow at her.

 

“That was like _one time_ ,” Emma protests but her eyes are twinkling. She leans forward and pulls the first cup from the tray, handing it to Regina, before pulling out the second cup for herself and re-settling against the couch cushions.

 

Regina takes a sip of the coffee and hums softly in delight. It’s not that the White House coffee is sub-par, it’s quite the opposite really, but nothing will ever compare to the coffee from this particular coffee shop. It’s the memory it brings forth, more than the taste, that makes it special - it’s the memory of Emma, twenty years younger, approaching Regina’s table with a nervous smile and a _hi_ , the beginning of _everything_.

 

Emma smiles knowingly at her, sipping her own coffee, as they lapse into comfortable silence. The coffee is half gone before Emma reaches for the paper bag. She holds it open for Regina to look inside and see what she’s bought - bear claws. Emma shakes the bag a little, like she’s tempting Regina. “Have one,” she urges.

 

Regina shakes her head but she reaches into the bag to pull one of the pastries out, lifting it to her mouth and biting into it carefully, trying to hide just how pleased she is with this sugary delight.

 

Emma grins knowingly, pulling the second one out of the bag and biting into it with much less finness than Regina. “So,” she says, when her pastry is completely devoured. She wipes at the sugar clinging to the corners of her mouth with her fingers and then licks them clean. “Are we going to talk about why you were up so early or what?”

 

Regina startles out of the sort of trance Emma cleaning the sugar off her fingers has put her under. Her lips purse and she pulls a napkin from the paper bag to wipe the sugar from her own fingers. “I was just going over a briefing.”

 

Emma’s eyebrows tick upwards sceptically. “So this has absolutely nothing to do with it being election day, hmm?”

 

“It does not,” Regina confirms but the lie sounds unbelievable even to her own ears.

 

Emma smiles at her in the annoyingly knowing and impossibly fond kind of way she sometimes does. She leans over and presses lips that taste like sugar to Regina’s in a quick but gentle kiss. “You sure about that?” she asks, pulling back just enough so that she can look into Regina’s eyes.

 

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina says in what is far more a whine than anything else because, even after twenty years, Emma kissing her still manages to completely disarm her.

 

Emma laughs softly, closing the gap between them to kiss Regina again. One of her hands reaches up and tangles in Regina’s hair as she deepens the kiss - it remains impossibly soft, the gentle kind of kissing that somehow manages to leave Regina breathless, regardless.

 

When they break the kiss, Emma rests her forehead against Regina’s, her hand still tangled in Regina’s hair and her thumb stroking Regina’s cheek gently. “You can tell me if you’re nervous, you know,” she says knowingly. “I promise your secret is safe with me.”

 

Regina doesn’t answer, she just recaptures Emma’s lips with her own, kissing her with a kind of urgency that has Emma shifting restlessly beside her, especially when Regina moves a hand to her thigh.

 

“ _Regina_.” It’s Emma’s turn to whine as they part again. She's breathless, her eyes dark and her pupils dilated. “I’m trying to have a conversation. Quit distracting me.”

 

Regina laughs. “If I’m not mistaken, _you’re_ the one who started the kissing.”

 

Emma grumbles something unintelligible in response that sounds a little like, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

 

Regina just laughs again.

 

Emma grins, kissing the corner of Regina’s mouth for good measure, and then she untangles her hand from Regina’s hair, pulling back and putting a modicum of space between them. She reaches for the hand still resting on her tigh, tugging it up into her lap and lacing their fingers together. She doesn’t say anything, just waits expectantly, knowing after so long together that Regina _will_ tell her what she’s thinking, eventually.

 

They sit in silence for minutes before Emma gets what she wants and Regina admits quietly, “What if they don’t vote for me?”

 

Emma squeezes her hand. “They love you. Of course they’re going to vote for you.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Regina sighs.

 

“Regina,” Emma says seriously, “You stepped up in the middle of an overwhelming catastrophe and you managed to hold this country together.”

 

“I didn’t have a choice,” Regina protests. “I was the Designated Survivor. It’s what I was _supposed_ to do.”

 

“Okay, sure,” Emma says, and her tone is still completely serious. “You’re right, it was your job that night to step up. But just because you were _supposed_ to do it, doesn’t mean you _had_ to, and it certainly was no guarantee that you were going to do it as well as you have. Everything you’ve accomplished since that horrible night is a testament to you, to your qualifications for this job, to your capability.”

 

Regina’s lips purse, contemplating that a moment. “But I was never elected. What does any of that mean if the people don’t _choose_ me today?”

 

Emma shakes her head. She takes a moment, like she’s contemplating the right thing to say here, and then she says, with no less seriousness, “Listen, even if all the predictions are wrong and you don’t win this thing by a landslide, you’ll still have been the first female president, the first openly gay president, the first Latinx president. No one is going to take any of that away from you.”

 

“And all the history books will say is that I was never elected,” Regina sighs woefully.

   

“You'll be elected, you'll see.” Emma squeezes her hand. “Believe me, the people will remember what you did when they go to the polls today. You completely rebuilt the government, kept the economy from collapsing, and caught the fucking asshole white dudes who thought they could scare us all with one act into folding to their agenda.”

 

Emma sounds so sure and that confidence helps abate some of Regina’s nerves. Only Emma could calm her this way - this same speech from anyone else would feel like nothing but platitude. But Emma wouldn't just say what Regina wants to hear to appease her.

 

Regina smiles gratefully at her wife but then she quirks an eyebrow, “That last one was the FBI acting on a tip from _your_ security company, if I remember correctly.”

 

Emma shrugs. “It's not _my_ security company anymore. Mulan runs the show, you know that. Now I'm just the First Lady.” It's light, mostly joking, but Regina hears the hint of insecurity underneath it. It’s an insecurity they’ve dealt with more than once in the last four years - Emma struggling, mostly with herself, to sort out how to fit into the role of First Lady. Despite Emma's misgivings about her capability, Regina knows that the country loves Emma just as much as they do her.

 

Regina leans over and presses a soft kiss to Emma's jaw, her lips hovering near Emma's ear as she murmurs, “Darling, you could never be _just_ anything, not to me.”

 

Emma smiles, turning her head so that she can press her lips to Regina's in a quick, soft, kiss. “I love you.”

 

“I love you,” Regina echoes, kissing Emma once more.

 

“We should probably go get ready,” Emma sighs when they part. She says it like leaving this couch is the absolutely last thing she wants to do but she's smiling, her eyes twinkling, when she adds, “It's a big day after all, _Madam President_.”

 

xxxxxx

 

**_(Four years ago)_ **

 

Regina comes downstairs, dressed and ready for the day, to find Emma in front of the stove.

 

Hope is sitting on one of the stools that line their kitchen island, a plate of scrambled eggs and a piece of toast already in front of her, fork in hand. Regina honestly sometimes can't believe that their baby is six. It seems like just yesterday that it was Henry who was six and it was just the two of them in this house. But now Henry is grown with a wife and a baby of his own and time only seems to pass faster every year.

 

Regina moves over to Hope, smoothing her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Morning, sweetheart,” she murmurs.

 

Hope beams up at her. “Morning, Mama.”

 

Emma sets a cup of coffee on the counter in front of Regina, pausing just long enough to smile at her, before swinging back to the stove, using a spatula to scramble the eggs that are cooking in the frying pan.

 

Regina sips the coffee slowly. “I thought you said you were going to make pancakes?”

 

Emma mumbles something completely unintelligible.

 

“Check the garbage can,” Hope giggles, grinning conspiratorially at Regina.

 

“ _Hey_ ,” Emma protests, in mock hurt, spinning around to point the spatula playfully at Hope. “That was supposed to be _our_ secret missy.”

 

“Oops,” Hope grins impishly, not looking sorry at all.

 

Regina laughs, pressing a kiss to the side of Hope’s head and then moving around the island over to Emma to kiss the pout right off of her wife’s lips.

 

Emma is smiling when they pull back, always easily appeased with kisses, and she hums while she scoops a portion of the eggs onto a plate that already has a piece of toast waiting on it. “Here,” she says holding the plate out.

 

“Thanks,” Regina smiles, taking the plate and pecking Emma quickly on the lips once more, before moving to sit beside Hope at the island.

 

Emma dishes the remainder of the eggs onto another plate just as Ry stumbles into the kitchen, looking a little bleary eyed. “Ah, the prince graces us with his presence.”

 

Ry rolls his eyes.

 

“You used to think my jokes were funny,” Emma frowns.

 

“I used to _pretend_ your jokes were funny.” Ry barely contains a smirk.

 

“You’re _mean_ , you know that?” Emma says but she holds out the plate with the eggs and toast on it for him to take with a smile on her face.

 

Ry wrinkles his nose. “ _You_ cooked?”

 

“Unfortunately!” Hope calls out, giggling.

 

“Mean,” Emma says, turning her head to look at Hope. “You're all mean.”

 

“Hey,” Regina protests. “I didn't say anything.”

 

Emma smiles over at her. “True I still love _you_. These two brats on the other hand...”

 

“ _Mommy_.” Hope shakes her head, looking exactly how Regina does when she's exasperated with Emma's jokes.

 

“Okay, okay,” Emma laughs. “I still love you both too.”

 

Ry rolls his eyes but he grins at Emma and takes the plate, making sure to add a, “Thanks, Mom,” as if he wants to be completely sure she knows they've just been teasing her. He doesn’t bother taking a seat, just leans back against the counter and digs in.

 

Regina shakes her head at him, but she’s watching him with nothing but fondness. He’s been a teenager as long as he’s been _theirs_ , coming to them at thirteen, angry and hurt and distrustful and in dire need of a home, of a place to feel safe again, somewhere permanent with people who would love him like the family he'd lost had once loved him. Now at seventeen, he’s grown out of that anger and into what sometimes just feels like a surlier iteration of Henry - he even looks like Henry from certain angles. Emma always just laughs whenever Regina says that though, teasingly suggesting that it must mean that he was always meant to be theirs, even if that sounds a little too much like fate, a concept neither of them actually believe in.

 

“Did you finish your English assignment, Ry?” Regina asks him.

 

Ry shrugs, “Almost.”

 

Regina quirks an eyebrow at him. “Almost doesn’t count.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ry grumbles. “I’ll finish it.”

 

Emma looks between them, biting into a piece of toast, not bothering with a plate, or apparently with eggs for herself. “You remembered that you’re watching your sister tonight, yeah?”

 

Ry’s eyes widen in surprise in the way that clearly means that he has not. “Uhh… no?” He sets his plate on the counter, brushing crumbs from his hands and rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to go hang out with Roland tonight.”

 

“Reschedule,” Emma says firmly. “It’s an important night for your mother. She’s got the State of the Union.”

 

“Can’t Henry come watch Hope?” Ry protests.

 

Emma doesn’t bother to answer that, she just lifts her eyebrows at him in the way that means he should know the answer. Jacinda works at a restaurant that her best friend owns, which means Henry is alone with Lucy several nights during the week. They certainly aren't going to ask him to drive the baby out here, not when it's likely to be a late night.

 

Ry sighs. “I promised Roland I’d help him with this thing.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Emma’s head tilts. “And what thing is that?”

 

“You wouldn’t understand.” Ry crosses his arms over his chest.

 

“Try me,” Emma says pleasantly, not caving to his sureliness.

 

Ry huffs a long suffering sigh. “It’s just a music thing. He's laying down a new dubstep track, and I need to write a program for him.”

 

“Okay, you’re right,” Emma shakes her head with a laugh. “I did not understand that, like at all.” Her eyes flicker over to Regina, having a quick, silent, conversation. They've become excellent at silent communication over the years, a necessity with three children.

 

“Alright, we can get a babysitter,” Regina is the one to provide their answer. She reaches over beside her to smooth Hope’s hair. “Okay with you, sweetheart?”

 

“I _guess_ ,” Hope sighs dramatically in the way only a six year old can.

 

Ry smiles at her, amused and fond, his surly attitude rarely extending to her. Hope smiles back at him - she's been enamoured with her big brother since the moment they brought him home when she was two.

 

Regina meets Emma’s eyes across the island and then they’re four for four as far as family members in this kitchen who are smiling go.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina drops Ry and Hope off at their respective schools and then heads for the office. Marian is waiting outside on the steps when she gets there.

 

“This can’t be good if it won’t even wait until I get into the building.” She quirks a curious eyebrow at Marian.

 

“I just spoke to Blanchard at Cabinet Affairs,” Marian says and Regina can hear the undercurrent of barely restrained outrage in her voice. “She slipped me a final copy of the President’s address and not a single one of our talking points are included.”

 

Regina blinks slowly, her lips pursing, as she takes that in. “Not even housing reform?” she asks.

 

“Nope.” Marian throws her arms up in the air. “Everything you and I have worked our asses off on for months, just gone.” The outrage is close to bubbling over now and she shakes her head. “We can’t just let them take an eraser to our entire domestic agenda.”

 

Regina is outraged too, she can feel anger simmering in her veins, but years of working in Washington have taught her a restraint she didn't always have when she was younger. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It’s not _our_ domestic agenda, it’s _his_ ,” she reminds, attempting to be the voice of reason.

 

“Bullshit,” Marian rolls her eyes at Regina, in the way that says that she knows that Regina is just tempering her real reaction - of course she _knows_ , they’ve been friends for the better part of fifteen years. “You’re the Secretary of Housing and Development. It’s _yours_ ,” she insists firmly.

 

“Look,” Regina says. “I am angry as hell but at the end of the day I’m not the President of the United States.”

 

Marian scoffs, “So you're just going to give up on this?”

 

“Of course not,” Regina shakes her head. “Set up a meeting.”

 

Marian grins. “Already done. We have a meeting with the Chief of Staff in twenty minutes.”

 

xxxxxx

 

“Robin,” Marian says tightly, nodding at the Chief of Staff as they're lead into a meeting room in the White House.

 

Robin and Marian’s divorce is more than a year old now but things remain strained between them. Regina can't help but wonder exactly how much say Robin has had in the decision for their housing policies to be removed from the State of the Union address. She can only imagine what he might have suggested to the President. She hopes she is wrong, that he hasn’t done this just to anger Marian, but it does seem like exactly the kind of petty he is.

 

“You’ve met my Deputy Chief of Staff before, right?” Robin asks, motioning to the woman standing beside him.

 

“Tamara, right?” Regina says, holding out her hand to shake.

 

Tamara’s head bobs once in the affirmative, shaking Regina's hand firmly and offering politely, “Madam Secretary.”

 

Regina doesn't waste any time getting to the point once they're seated at the meeting table, Marian beside her, and Robin and Tamara across from them. “These are programs that can help millions of low income families, Robin. They're not even going to be mentioned _once_ tonight?”

 

Robin’s mouth twists. “Unfortunately, housing reform is just not the most pressing matter at the moment.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina catches a flicker of disapproval on Tamara’s face, before her expression goes blank, and Regina thinks they're might be a story there and that if she knew Tamara better she could find it out.

 

“Come on Robin,” Marian is the one who speaks. “Regina’s done some good work with the President over these last four years.” Marian neglects to mention how often Regina and the President have disagreed in that same time frame, or how Regina secretly, or maybe not so secretly, doesn't even really like him. “There’s still so much more that needs to be done,” she adds.

 

For a second Robin almost looks apologetic and he seems to chose his next words carefully. “That was last term, now we have to focus on this term.”

 

It’s the way he says it, more than the actual words, that has sudden dread forming in the pit of Regina’s stomach. She stiffens, bracing herself for whatever he's about to say next, because she just knows that it’s not going to be something that she likes.

 

Robin folds his hands on the table in front of him. “We weren’t going to tell you this until after the address tonight, but the President is looking to make a change. He would like to offer you an ambassadorship to the International Civil Aviation Organization. It’s in Montreal, it’s under the UN.”

 

Regina’s lips purse, her shoulders tense. They’re firing her. Worse. They’re trying to send her to Montreal.

 

Marian reacts before Regina can decide how to respond. “What the hell, Robin?” she snaps, eyes ablaze with anger. “Is this because I work for her? Are you still so mad about me leaving you that you’d make a recommendation to the detriment of millions of Americans just out of spite?”  

 

“Not everything has to do with you Marian,” Robin scoffs but his shoulders are just a little too tense, his posture just a little too defensive, and Tamara is looking disapproving from beside him again. “Quit acting like this is some horrible hardship, it’s an ambassadorship with all the trimmings that comes with it for Pete’s sake.”

 

Marian looks like she's going to deck him and Regina puts a calming hand on her forearm to stop this from escalating into a pointless argument. It doesn’t much matter _why_ they’re trying to ship her off to Montreal - why won’t change the fact that they are.

 

“I'll think about it,” Regina tells Robin.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina goes to see Emma after the meeting at the White House. She stops to have a quick chat with Mulan, before she heads for Emma’s office, closing the door behind her with just enough force that Emma looks up surprised and then expectant, waiting for Regina to explain what’s going, because it’s so clear that _something_ is going on.

 

Regina explains rapid fire what Robin said about Montreal and the ambassadorship.

 

Emma’s green eyes flash outrage. “They want you to _what_?” she doesn’t wait for Regina to answer the rhetorical question. “We can’t move to Montreal. I don’t know French.”

 

Emma’s first listed concern being that she doesn’t know French is just such an Emma response that Regina can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of her chest, overwhelming fondness overcoming her.

 

“It’s not funny,” Emma protests, even though there is a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

“I know,” Regina agrees.

 

“We can’t just move to Canada, Regina.” Emma’s smile slips, replaced with a frown. She sighs in something near exasperation, although Regina doesn’t think that exaspeartion is directed at her. “Ry and Hope are settled here. Henry and Jacinda and Lucy are only twenty minutes away. My business is here.”

 

“I know,” Regina repeats.

 

“What are you going to do?” Emma wonders, curious green eyes studying her. “Can you turn it down? If you say no, they can’t just fire you as Secretary of Housing and Development can they?”

 

Regina lifts a shoulder, lips pursing. She hasn’t much thought about what she’s going to do yet. That’s why she’s here. Talking things over with Emma always helps. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’ll just go back to being a professor.”

  

Emma’s brow furrows once more. “That can’t be the best solution. They can't just run you out of town. You're meant for politics, you're so good at it.”

 

Regina smiles tightly at her. She appreciates Emma's faith in her but she knows that part of the problem is that she _isn't_ good at politics. She's good, maybe even great, at policy, but not at _really_ fitting in on Capitol Hill. Too often since she was named Secretary of Housing and Development she's pushed back, stood up for the things she believed in until she's gotten the concessions she's wanted, but now her family might have to pay the price.

 

Emma opens her mouth to say something else, clearly reading the conflict in Regina's eyes and wanting to abate it, but Regina’s cell phone rings, interrupting.

 

Regina pulls the phone out of her pocket, answering and listening while the person on the other end speaks. “Alright,” she agrees tersely when the person has finally finished explaining.

 

“What’s up?” Emma is watching her curiously when she hangs up her phone.

 

“They want me to be the Designated Survivor tonight,” Regina explains.

 

“The _what_?” Emma’s head tilts. “Designated Survivor? Is that even a real thing?”

 

“It is,” Regina nods. She knows why they’re doing this. It’s a punishment just like the ambassadorship is a punishment. Punishment for not playing the game the right way. Sure Robin might have had something to do with it but, if Regina would have just been happy to be some stooge on Capitol Hill like all the old white dudes, then this never would have happened, she feels even more certain of that now.

 

“So we _aren’t_ going to the State of the Union?” Emma asks, still seeming not completely certain of what is going on.

 

“We are not,” Regina confirms.

 

xxxxx

 

Hours later, Regina is with Emma in a boardroom of an undisclosed building somewhere in Washington. They've got the State of the Union address up on the television and dinner spread out on the table and, all things considered, this actually might be _nicer_ than having to sit through the address at the Capitol Building with everyone else. It could _almost_ pass for a date night - something they haven't had time for in weeks - if it weren't for the Secret Service agents posted right outside the door.

 

Emma is currently standing, pacing as she talks into her phone. “You're supposed to be asleep.”

 

“Give me the phone,” Regina says, drawing Emma's attention to her.

 

Emma shakes her head at Regina and then says into the phone, “No you can't talk to Mama”.

 

Regina just smiles, holding her hand out palm up and repeating, “Give me the phone.”

 

Emma's eyes narrow but with a sigh she hands the phone over and drops into the seat beside Regina.

 

Regina smiles at Emma again, raising the phone to her ear and saying faux-seriously, “Who is this?”

 

“Hope.” The provided name is accompanied by a muffled giggle.

 

“Hope who?” Regina prompts next, while Emma watches her, her expression quickly turning into one of amusement.

 

“Hope Swan-Mills,” Hope says through the phone and Regina can hear another giggle that she’s barely holding back.

 

“It can't be,” Regina says, smirking over at Emma. “Because Hope Swan-Mills is my daughter and I tucked her into her bed an hour ago.”

 

“ _Mama_ ,” Hope whines.

 

“ _Hope_ ,” Regina says back and Emma is rolling her eyes at her.

 

Hope lets out a long exaggerated sigh that is perfectly audible through the phone. “When are you coming home?”

 

“That doesn't matter,” Regina says. “Because you are going to be asleep when we get home, yes?”

 

There’s no answer from the other end of the phone, which means Hope is most definitely pouting.

 

“Yes?” Regina repeats.

 

“But I miss you,” Hope says in the sad way that they both know will work because it tugs at Regina’s heart.

 

“Tell you what, sweetheart,” Regina predictably softens. “If you get back into bed now and go to sleep, tomorrow night we can watch a movie together.”

 

“Even if it’s a long one that goes past my bedtime?” Hope wheedles.

 

“Yes, even a long one,” Regina agrees.

 

“With Mommy too?” Hope requests.

 

“Yes, with Mommy too,” Regina confirms, not needing to ask Emma if she agrees - movie nights have always been one of Emma’s favourite things.

 

“And with Ry?” Hope tries.

 

That one is a little less easy to promise. “We’ll ask him,” is the best Regina can offer.

 

“Fine,” Hope sighs far too seriously for a six year old.

 

“Now you’ll go to bed?” Regina reminds.

 

“Mmhm,” Hope confirms, although she still doesn’t sound especially enthusiastic about it.

 

“That’s my girl,” Regina hums. “I love you.”

 

“Love you too, Mama,” Hope echoes the sentiment.

 

Emma is shaking her head at Regina when she hangs up the phone. “You’re soft.”

 

Regina scoffs in mock outrage, “How dare you. I am not.”

 

Emma laughs. “This is why Henry thinks you spoil her, you know. You never would have let him wheedle you into that deal when he was six.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “That’s what he’d have you believe, but he was just as good at negotiating at that age as Hope is.”

 

Emma laughs again. “I wonder who they get that from?”

 

“Must be you,” Regina suggests with all the seriousness she can muster, even though Emma wasn't even around until Henry was ten.

 

Emma rolls her eyes with fondness and tugs Regina’s chair closer to hers. “These chairs with wheels are nice,” she grins, and then leans in to kiss Regina.

 

Regina’s hand reaches up and threads itself in blonde hair, moaning softly as their tongues meet. She’s so lost in kissing her wife that she’s nearly completely forgotten that they’re locked away in some unknown boardroom, Secret Service posted at the door, but her cell phone ringing startles her out of her blissful trance.

 

“Mmph,” Emma protests when Regina pulls back.

 

“Sorry,” Regina apologizes. “It’s Henry.”

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Emma sighs exaggeratedly, like she’s Hope protesting her bedtime. “I see where I rate,” she grumbles jokingly.

 

Regina rolls her eyes fondly and then answers the phone. “Henry, hi.”

 

Henry has called for no other reason than to say hello and they chat about his day and about Lucy and Jacinda, while Regina keeps one eye on the television screen. The President has finally taken centre stage and she can’t help but glare at the screen. She really doesn’t like that man, and not just because he’s trying to ship her off to Montreal. The signal cuts out, the screen going fuzzy grey.

 

“Odd,” she says.

 

“Did your TV signal cut out too?” Henry wonders through the phone.

 

“Yes,” Regina confirms. She stands and moves over to the TV, changing the channel, the screen flickering back to life as a basketball game comes on, she flicks back to the original channel and it's still nothing but fuzzy grey.

 

“Fuck,” Emma says, looking up from where she’s been staring at her phone. Her eyes are wide, both confused and worried. “They’re saying there’s been an attack?”

 

“Mom?” Henry asks worriedly through the phone but Regina doesn’t answer him.

 

The TV flickers back on, not to the hall in the Capitol Building but to a news desk. “We’re getting reports of an attack on the Capitol Building,” a stricken looking announcer says, seeming to confirm what Emma said a moment ago.

 

It’s at that exact moment that Secret Service bursts through the door. Lance, one of the agents Regina’s known as long as she’s been Secretary of Housing and Development, is the first through the door, shouting, “You need to hang up the phone, _now_!”

 

“Mom?” Henry asks through the phone, sounding on the edge of panic.

 

“Now!” Lance demands and his eyes are dangerously serious and frantic at the same time.

 

“I have to go, Henry, love you,” Regina says in shock, hanging up without waiting for a response.

 

“All your devices,” Lance says, “I need them all. Do you have any in your bag?”  

 

Regina shakes her head.

 

Emma has already left her phone on the table and is moving over to the window. She pulls open the shutters and the sound that leaves her mouth, that horrified gasp, is something that will probably haunt Regina for the rest of her life.

 

Regina takes a wooden step forward, towards Emma, towards the window, where she stares and stares and stares, not believing what she’s seeing. Her heart drops into her stomach.

 

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.

 

In the distance, the Capitol Building is nothing but a ball of fire, bright orange illuminating the night sky.

 

This can’t be real.

 

“Madam Secretary, get away from the window!” Lance shouts with the kind of urgency that suggests that, yes, this is very much real. “We have to go, _now_.”

 

xxxxxx

 

They’re rushed into the back of an SUV. Blue and red lights flashing against the dark night sky as the mortacade speeds through the streets of Washington, DC.

 

Emma clutches Regina’s hand so tightly that Regina thinks she might be cutting off her circulation - she doesn’t care though, it’s helping to ground her, to distract her from her racing heart and her racing thoughts.

 

“Lance,” Regina says. “What is going on?”

 

“We’re heading to the White House,” is all Lance says from his place in the passenger's seat.  

 

“What happened?” Emma asks, the paleness of her face obvious even in this dark vehicle.

 

“We’re not sure yet.” Lance’s face is blank, his jaw tight. “It looks like a bomb.”

 

“And the President?” Emma asks without completely forming the question she intends.

 

“We haven’t gotten word yet. But there's been nothing from his detail,” Lance says.

 

They all stare at each, shock and horror preventing anyone from knowing what to say. Then Lance gets information through his earpiece and he turns to face the front.

 

Regina waits with bated breath, but the only thing Lance says into his sleeve is, “God, don’t tell me that.”

 

“Lance?” Regina prods afterwards, her heart thumping erratically in her chest, the sound reverberating in her ears, Emma’s hand still clutching hers tightly.

 

Lance’s eyes are haunted as he turns back around in his seat to face her. “It’s confirmed. Eagle is gone. Congress. The Cabinet. None of them made it.” He takes a breath, like he’s bracing himself, and continues, “Madam Secretary, we’re enacting continuity of government. The DC appellate will meet us at the White House.”

 

This can’t be happening.

 

Emma squeezes her hand, somehow tighter.

 

“Ma’am,” Lance says, “You are now the President of the United States.”

 

xxxxxx

 

They make it to the White House and are rushed inside with the same level of urgency as they'd been rushed out of the boardroom.

 

Inside the White House, a building Regina has visited on more occasions than she can count, everything is different, surreal. The place is somehow hectic and frozen all at once. Everyone seems to have spilled out into the hallways, muffled whispering and the sound of soft crying echoes around, and all Regina can do is stare.

 

From beside her, Emma is asking about their kids. Lance assures her that Secret Service is picking them up and bringing them here right now.

 

Tamara, Robin’s deputy chief of staff whom Regina had met with just twelve hours previous, approaches them. “Ma’am,” Tamara says solemnly. “Come with me.”

 

Regina can do nothing but follow, pulling Emma along with her, their hands still linked.

 

Tamara leads them to the DC appellate, a woman with dark curly hair, who holds out a bible for Emma to take.

 

“Hold that please, Ma’am,” she says.

 

Emma seems frozen a moment but slowly she lets go of Regina's hand and takes the bible.

 

Regina wants to take her hand back. Wants to take back the only thing that was grounding her, the only thing that was keeping her heart from beating it's way right out of her chest. But her needs aren't what matter right now, this isn't about her, it's about the entire country.

 

“Ma’am,” the DC appellate says, addressing Regina now. “Please put your left hand on the bible.”

 

Regina does as she's asked, her hand moving to the bible almost as if it's operating on its own, outside her control.

 

This can't be real.

 

But somehow it is.

 

Somehow Regina really is being sworn in as President, while Emma stands beside her in jeans.

 

The room falls quiet, the only sound now that of muffled crying and of Regina's own heart beat reverberating in her ears, all eyes on the proceeding taking place.

 

“Repeat after me,” the DC appellate says while Tamara films the moment with her cell phone camera.

 

Regina nods once and carefully follows along.

 

“I, Regina Swan-Mills, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the constitution of the United States.”

 

This is real.

 

Regina is now the President of the United States.

 

xxxxxx

 

As soon as the swearing in is over, Tamara leads Regina away, rushing her through the halls of the White House, through a door and into the chaos of the Presidential Emergency Operations Centre.

 

Everyone is talking at once, hurried and frantic as they order this and that. Regina just watches frozen, uncertain of how she fits in here in this room, uncertain of what good she’s going to be able to do here. She’s the President now but she feels completely inadequately prepared for this. Is it even possible to be prepared for such a catastrophe?

 

Someone is talking about having issues getting a secure communication line to patch in the CIA director, and someone is arguing back that they don’t care if they have to use Skype, to just get him _now_.

 

Someone else is talking about alerting the networks that they’ll be ready with a broadcast in about ninety minutes - a broadcast Regina realizes with some level of dread that she’s going to be expected to give.

 

Yet another someone, a General, is talking about going to war. “We need to alert every one of our embassies to convey to each host nation that the US is on a war footing and now is not the time to test us,” he's saying, sounding angry.

 

“Stop,” Regina says and when no one listens, she repeats, “ _Stop_!” this time forcefully and the room falls silent, startled, like they just didn’t expect such force from her.

 

They're all staring at her expectantly and suddenly she's not sure what she's meant to say. She swallows thickly. “Let’s take a moment of silence for our fallen friends. We’ve all lost people tonight.” She's been trying not to think about that, about all the people she knows who were at the Capitol Building tonight.

 

Everyone looks a little startled by the request but slowly, one by one, they bow their heads. Only when everyone else has lowered theirs, does Regina bow her own head.

 

“Okay,” she says when the minute has passed, looking back up. “Tell me what I need to know.”  

 

“The UN is in emergency session. I have a three-page phone list with every one of our enemies calling to deny responsibility for the attack,” one of the people who'd been arguing about patching in the CIA director says.

 

Regina nods.

 

The General jumps in next, “All US military bases are on full alert, and the USS Eisenhower is currently hard charging towards the Fifth Fleet stationed in the Persian Gulf.”

 

That gives Regina pause and she frowns, her lips pursing. “I understand alerting our bases, but why are we _hard charging_ a US aircraft carrier anywhere?”

 

The General looks like he's barely containing an eye roll and he starts in the most patronizing tone, “Madame President, in the event of an attack-”

 

Regina cuts him off, eyes narrowed, “An attack from _who_? You just said all of our enemies are denying responsibility.”

 

The General's eyes narrow to match hers, his posture completely defensive. “Because all warfare is based on deception and there are still plenty we haven't heard from.”

 

Regina doesn't back down, her eyes remain hard, her back straight. “I just don't feel comfortable showing that kind of force yet.”

 

“Well tell me when you are comfortable,” the General snaps, his frustration and annoyance with her spilling out.

 

“You'll be the first to know,” Regina says cooly. She doesn't care if he's annoyed. This decision isn't one to take lightly. By the end of the night, they might be at war, and that decision will be _hers_ to make. The weight of that settles heavy on her chest.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina leaves the Emergency Operations Centre and ducks out the door into the night air. She just needs a minute to process. She closes her eyes and takes long slow deep breaths.

 

“Hey.”

 

Regina’s eyes blink open to find her wife staring at her. “Hey,” she echoes the greeting.

 

“What are you doing out here?” Emma wonders, head tilted, concerned green eyes studying Regina carefully.

 

“I just needed a second,” Regina admits.

 

Emma nods in understanding. She closes the space between them and wraps her arms around Regina, pulling into her hug without a second of hesitation.

 

Regina’s own arms snake around Emma’s waist, clinging to her. She rests her forehead against Emma’s shoulder and closes her eyes, breathing in and out and in out.

 

One of Emma’s hands rubs Regina’s back slowly. She presses a gentle kiss into Regina's hair and whispers into her ear with much more certainty than she must feel, “It’s going to be okay.”

 

 _Is it?_ Regina wonders but she doesn’t voice the question out loud, just keeps breathing in and out and in and out, letting herself draw strength from Emma. Finally she pulls back, slipping out from Emma’s embrace, because, as much as she wants to, standing here in Emma's arms all night is just not an option. “Did they get Hope here?” she asks.

 

Emma nods.

 

“How is she?” Regina asks.

 

“Scared,” Emma supplies. “Confused. Same as everyone else, I guess.”

 

Regina sighs but she nods. “And what about Ry?”

 

“He’s not here yet, but they were sending people to Marian’s house, so he should be here any time now,” Emma explains.

 

Regina nods again. She’ll feel better when he’s here, when she knows that her whole family is safe. There’s a flicker of guilt at that thought, because so many people have lost loved ones tonight, so many families will never be whole again. And now the whole nation is relying on _her_ to somehow guide them out of this nightmare. The understanding that she is the President of the United States is still staggering and she can’t help but ask, “Is this real?”

 

Emma's lips twitch into a wry, understanding, smile, the kind that doesn't even come close to reaching her eyes. “I think so, unfortunately.”

 

Regina shakes her head. “What the hell am I even doing here, Emma?”

 

Emma frowns, confused. “What are you saying? You want to quit? Is that even an option?”

 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Regina sighs. “Is it fair to do this to our family? To Ry and Hope? Henry and Jacinda and Lucy? We’re in danger now. Are they?”

 

“I don’t know, Regina.” Emma sighs too, reaching for Regina’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “I’d be lying if I said grabbing Hope and Ry, and Henry and Jacinda and Lucy, and running for our lives didn’t sound at least a little appealing right now. But, I know that’s just selfish.”

 

“Are you sure it is though? Wouldn’t it maybe be better to leave the country to be led by someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing?” Regina thinks of all the people in that Emergency Operations Centre who'd been ordering this and that, seeming to know just what to do while she watched uncertain, and still they'd had to listen to _her_.

 

Emma’s head tilts, her expression serious, thoughtful. “There’s no one I trust more than you in a crisis. I know that this country is in capable hands right now. Who knows if that would be true about whoever would take your place.”

 

Regina thinks of the General, already ready to go to war and she wonders if maybe Emma is right. She swallows thickly, squeezing Emma’s hand. “You have to say that, you’re my wife.”

 

Emma gives her a lopsided smile. It's another smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, weighed down by the events of this night, but it's lighter than the previous one, fondness managing to shine through. “Doesn’t make it untrue,” she says.

 

Regina shakes her head but she returns the smile with a tentative one of her one. “President of the United States,” she says, still with some disbelief. She shakes her head again, laughing humourlessly. “If my mother could see me now.”

 

Cora Mills’ dream had been for her daughter to be President of the United States and how sorely disappointed she’d been when Regina had chosen to become a professor instead. Even when Regina had been appointed as a member of cabinet, it hadn’t been good enough for Cora. Her mother had died sixteen months ago, forever disappointed in what she saw as Regina not living up to her true potential. And here Regina is now, accomplishing everything her mother ever dreamed of, in the most horrific way possible.

 

Emma gives her a look that is all sympathetic understanding, squeezing her hand. She doesn’t need to say anything, has argued against Cora’s views vehemently often enough that Regina knows exactly what she thinks, and this quiet kind of reassurance means more to Regina than words could right now anyway.

 

The door opens and Lance steps outside then, interrupting their moment. “Madam President?” he says. “You said Ry was at a friend’s tonight?.”

 

“Yes,” Regina nods. “Roland’s.”

 

“I just spoke with the agents at his residence and Ry wasn’t there,” Lance explains.

 

“What?” Regina’s eyes widen, her heart hammering hard against her rib cage. “Where is he?”

 

“I don’t know,” Lance admits. “But I’m going to find him.”

 

“I’m coming with you,” Emma says immediately, letting go of Regina’s hand and taking a step towards Lance.

 

“Ma’am,” Lance says, and he looks apologetic but firm. “You’re the First Lady now. I can’t let you do that.”

 

Emma looks stricken, like that’s the first time she’s realized what Regina being President means for _her_.

 

The door swings open again then and it’s Tamara. “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” she says. “But I need you to come with me back to the Emergency Operations Centre. They’re waiting for you.”

 

Regina wants to stay and reassure Emma. Regina wants to help find their son. But the country is counting on her and she has to choose to go with Tamara. Regina has a feeling that this is exactly what their lives are going to be like for a while.

 

xxxxxx

 

They waste no time explaining the situation the second Tamara and Regina walk into the Emergency Operations Centre.

 

“Sat imagery shows ten Iranian Navy destroyers leaving Bandar Abbas port and taking up positions along the Strait of Hormuz.”

 

“The Strait of Hormuz is where thirty percent of the world's oil passes through,” Tamara explains.

 

“I know what it is, Tamara,” Regina says evenly and Tamara looks sheepish.

 

“Madame President,” the General jumps in, “This is a purposeful provocation by the Iranians to take advantage of the night's events and choke off the Western world's main supply of oil. Just as we're on our knees, they're gonna step on our throat.” He's flushed red with anger and Regina can sense the _I told you so_ on the tip of his tongue, as if her denial of his earlier request to prepare for war with an unknown attacker has caused this.

 

Regina takes only a moment to think it over and then she says calmly, “I disagree.”

 

The General’s head looks like it might explode. “How many more ways can I say this? In the morning, our economy is going to go over a cliff, and the Iranians are just seizing the moment.”

 

“What do you want me to do, General? Declare war?” Regina's eyes are hard but her tone is still even, verging on calm.

 

In contrast, the volume of General’s voice is at a near yell. “We've just been attacked. The world thinks it can test us right now, and a full, swift show of force is the only way to remind them that our flag is still flying strong tonight.”

 

“And all I'm saying is that I think there are different ways to show force,” Regina responds firmly.

 

“What _you_ need to understand is the Iranians respect only one course of action, and that is actual _action_. This is not some consumer group waiting for a photo op with a figurehead.” The General glares at her, irritation and anger still spilling out in abundance.

 

“ _Figurehead_ ,” Regina laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Well, General,” she says with confidence, “ _this_ figurehead paid attention during the Cabinet meetings where we dealt with this very issue. And the Iranians have tried to close off the Strait of Hormuz for the last 35 years, so I am having a difficult time believing that they just up and decided to do that tonight.”

 

That seems to give the General pause. There's a flicker of hesitation before he says, “And how can you be so certain of that?”

 

Regina doesn't answer him because they both know she can't be certain, not completely. She looks over at Tamara. “When is the Iranian ambassador due to arrive?”

 

“Twenty minutes,” Tamara answers and she's eyeing Regina with something that looks curiously like respect.

 

Regina gives her a nod of acknowledgment and then turns her eyes back to the General. “Okay, General. You can scramble your bombers, but they are not to engage. We're going to try my way and if that doesn't work, we will try yours.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina leaves the Emergency Operations Centre for a second time that night, still feeling like she doesn't have a single clue what she's doing but, in a way, energized by her disagreement with the General.

 

Stepping into the hallway she runs, almost literally, into Marian.

 

Marian looks just as stricken as everyone else on this horrible evening and Regina reaches out to hug her. Maybe it’s not the action of a President but this is a friend of more than a decade and she doesn’t much care what anyone thinks.

 

“Robin?” Regina asks when they pull back, already knowing the answer. He was Chief of Staff, he would have been at the State of the Union Address, otherwise he would be here now.

 

Marian shakes her head once solemnly, confirming that her ex-husband is unaccounted for. She swallows thickly. “What can I do to help? I want to help.”

 

From beside Regina, Tamara opens her mouth to say something that is most surely a rejection, but Regina cuts her off.

 

“They're writing a speech for me to address the nation in about forty minutes time. Can you review it with the speech writer? I'm not going to have time and I trust you to know what I wouldn't want to say.”

 

Marian nods her agreement.

 

“Tamara,” Regina says. “Can you take Marian where she needs to go?”

 

“Yes Ma’am,” Tamara confirms. “But may I ask where you're going?”

 

“I've got twenty minutes until the meeting with the Iranian Ambassador, I'm going to check and make sure that they've found my son.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina tracks down Lance easily. He tells her that they found Ry at a party with his friend Violet and that he’s here now. Regina breathes a sigh of relief but the confirmation still doesn’t feel like enough. She needs to see him. She needs to see Hope too. And she's still got fifteen minutes.

 

She hears them before she sees them and she stops in the hallway, moving forward quietly until they appear in her line of sight.

 

Ry and Hope are sitting on a bed in a room that might become Hope’s for quite some time. Hope is curled into Ry’s side, her favourite stuffed bunny clutched to her chest.

 

“I know you’re scared but everything is going to be okay,” Ry is saying softly to her.

 

Hope is frowning. “But why are we here?”

 

Ry hesitates. “Because this is, uhh, going to be our new home.”

 

“But _why_?” Hope repeats, still not satisfied.

 

Ry sighs. “Because some bad people did something bad tonight and now it’s Mama’s job to make sure we’re all safe.”

 

“What about Mommy? Is she gonna help too?” Hope asks curiously.

 

“Of course she is.” One side of Ry’s mouth ticks upward into a lopsided smile. “That’s how they do everything, right? Together?”

 

Hope nods seriously, looking up at her brother like he has all of the answers. “Are you scared?”

 

“Yeah.” Ry admits in a move that surprises Regina, it isn’t like him to be admit his feelings so easily, especially about being afraid.

 

“Are Mama and Mommy?” Hope wonders, worrying her lip between her teeth.

 

“Are you kidding?” Ry scoffs, smiling down at his little sister. “They’re not scared of anything”

 

Hope smiles too, leaning further into Ry’s side. “You’re right.”

 

Regina wishes it were true.

 

xxxxxx

 

The Iranian Ambassador arrives exactly on time.

 

He sits across from Regina on a couch in one of the numerous White House meeting rooms, looking just a little nervous. “Please, allow me to begin by extending to you and the American people my country's most sincere sympathies on this horrific tragedy,” he says carefully. “If there is anything our people can do in response to this tremendous act of cowardice, rest assured, we will do it.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Regina says smoothly, barely blinking as she continues, “You can begin by removing your destroyers from the Strait of Hormuz.”

 

There's a flicker of hesitation before the Ambassador says, “Madame President, excuse me, but I believe you have been misinformed.”

 

Regina quirks a disbelieving eyebrow. “Is that a fact?”

 

“Yes,” the Ambassador bobs his head rapidly, managing to look only slightly more convincing this time. “We have moved no such destroyers into the Strait of Hormuz.”

 

Regina folds her hands in her lap and leans forward ever so slightly, like she's about to tell him a secret. It's with icy calm that she says, “My defense department has war-gamed this out. They're waiting for me to give them the green light, which, I assure you, I will do unless you pull your destroyers back to Bandar Abbas within the next three hours.”

 

“Madame President, I would-” the Ambassador starts to protest.

 

“Mr. Ambassador,” Regina cuts him off, not wanting to waste time listening to him deny an action they both know has been taken. “You may not know much about me, but what you should know is that I'm about as straight a shooter as you will find in Washington. So you should believe me when I tell you that I do not want, as my first act as Commander in Chief, to attack Iran. But, as both of us know, it's not always up to us how history plays itself out.” She eyes him for several beats, it's her _you're in trouble and I want you to think about that and stew_ expression.

 

“Now,” she starts again, her tone verging on icy once more, commanding and leaving no doubt about just how serious she is. “I have chosen to believe that your country is not playing on our emotions tonight, but nevertheless, you will feel the full impact of them if you do not comply with my demands. Mr. Ambassador, dock your destroyers or the lead story on the morning news will not be about the attack on our capital but the devastating attack on yours. Please, Mr. Ambassador, let's not get off on the wrong foot here tonight.”

 

The Ambassador swallows thickly, looking a little like he might be ill. “Madame President, I will speak with my government.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Ambassador.” Regina smiles at him then, it's a smile that is purposefully threatening and she knows he must feel that based on the way he shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

 

“Mr. Ambassador,” Tamara says then from where she’s been standing by the door this whole time. “This way,” she motions towards the exit.

 

The Ambassador looks relieved about getting to leave and he stands hastily.

 

He's almost at the door when Regina calls after him a reminder, “Three hours.”

 

He looks back at her and Regina swears she hears him gulp. He nods once and escapes out the door.

 

“That was impressive,” Tamara says once the ambassador is gone, giving Regina something as close to a genuine smile as anyone is capable of tonight. Her eyes shine with respect and admiration and a kind of confidence she hasn't exuded at any other point tonight - like it's just occurred to her that things might actually turn out okay.

 

Regina returns the smile. She just hopes that she'll be able to reassure the rest of the American people the way she seems to have reassured Tamara.

 

xxxxxx

 

Dealing with the Iranian Ambassador has eaten up a lot of time and there is only ten minutes left until the live broadcast now.

 

Regina steps into the Oval Office where the camera has been set up to find Emma seated beside Marian, reading through a copy of the speech, while the speech writer sits across from them.

 

Emma bounces up from the couch immediately, closing the distance between them. She eyes Regina up and down. “That's a nice suit,” she says.

 

Regina looks down at her pantsuit, an outfit significantly more presidential than the slacks and sweater she'd shown up at the White House in. “I had to borrow it,” she admits, even though that much must be obvious - all of their things are still back at the house.

 

Emma reaches out and tucks dark hair behind Regina's ear, her hand lingering. “You ready?” she asks, motioning with her head to the camera that is set up pointing towards the President’s desk - _her_ desk.

 

Regina reaches up to grab the hand that is still lingering in her hair. She presses a kiss to the palm of Emma's hand and then lowers it, lacing their fingers together. She thinks about their talk outside, about Emma saying part of her wanted to run, and how they never really finished talking about that. “I know this is going to change everything for us but I have to do this.” She searches Emma's eyes for some kind of indication of what she's thinking, all she finds is openness and understanding. Still, she asks, “Are you still on my side?”

 

“I’m always on your side,” Emma says and there's a hint of a smirk as she adds, “ _Madam President_.”

 

xxxxxx

 

**_(Present)_ **

 

They shower together, which Emma tries to convince Regina is to save time, but really probably ends up extending the getting ready process by at least twenty minutes - not that Regina’s complaining about it.

 

Emma watches her with a fond smile as she pulls on the jacket of her pantsuit.

 

Emma herself is already dressed and she fidgets with the hem of the sleeve of her white blouse. “How do I look?”

 

“Perfect, darling,” Regina smiles, leaning in to kiss her.

 

“Yeah?” Emma wonders, biting her lip.

 

Regina shakes her head and kisses her again. Emma is forever concerned that she is not presidential enough, that she is doing the job of First Lady wrong, but, frankly, Regina couldn't care less about how previous First Lady’s had dressed or acted. Emma is perfect exactly how she is.

 

“Yes,” Regina confirms, leaning in and kissing Emma a third time for good measure.

 

Emma sighs softly when they part. “We’re going to be late.”

 

Regina's eyes twinkle. “The President is never late.”

 

“Well in that case…” Emma laughs, her eyes shining with happiness as she wraps her arms around Regina’s waist, pulling her closer and kissing her again.

 

The kiss is interrupted by a sudden pounding on the door. “Mama!”

 

“Go away, Hope!” Emma calls loudly.

 

“ _Mom!_ ”

 

“Get lost!” Emma says, barely containing a laugh.

 

“I'm hungry!” Hope yells.

 

“Listen here, kid, I'm trying to kiss your mother right now,” Emma calls out. “Come back later.”

 

Regina can perfectly picture Hope’s wrinkled nose.

 

There's a pause but then Hope says just as loudly, “You promised you’d take me out to breakfast before the voting!”

 

Emma looks over at Regina and Regina smiles. “We did promise her.”

 

“Fine!” Emma says loudly, like she's exasperated, even though Regina knows, as she's sure Hope does, that Emma is just joking.

 

Emma moves across the room and pulls the door open to reveal ten year old Hope standing there, dressed and ready to go, a hand on her hip.

 

“About time,” Hope grumbles.

 

Emma laughs, shaking her head. She spins to look back at Regina, who's still standing where she left her, and she stretches her hand out towards her. “ _Apparently_ it's time for breakfast.”

 

Regina smiles fondly, closing the gap between them in a few steps, taking Emma's outstretched hand and lacing their fingers together. “Good morning, Hope,” she says to their daughter.

 

“Morning, Mama,” Hope echoes and then adds impatiently, “Can we go _now_? Please?”

 

Maybe another day she might have chastised Hope for the impatience but she's said please and they _did_ promise her, so Regina just smiles. “Yes.”

 

As Hope leads them down the hall of a place Regina never imagined would be their home, Regina feels warmth flood her chest. She squeezes Emma's hand and whispers in her wife’s ear, “I love you, _My Swan_.”

 

xxxxxx

 

**_(Four years ago)_ **

 

It’s long after her address to the nation, and long after they get confirmation that Iran has moved it's destroyers, that Regina slips into a bed that isn't quite hers yet, even though she supposes it _technically_ is.

 

Regina curls herself up in Emma's arms, burying her head in the crook of Emma's neck. In the darkness of this room, in the safety of her wife’s arms, she lets herself break. She sobs for everything that's been lost tonight, friends and colleagues and so much more. Her whole body shakes with the force of it, while Emma murmurs in her ear, rubs her back, smooths her hair.

 

“Better?” Emma asks when Regina's sobs have finally quieted.

 

Regina pulls back to look at her and it's only then that she realizes that Emma has been crying too. She touches Emma's cheek gently with the pad of her fingers, wiping at the moisture there. “Thank you,” she says without elaboration. She's positive she couldn't have made it through this night without Emma.

 

Emma just smiles at her, her eyes filled with understanding. “I love you.”

 

“I love you,” Regina echoes.

 

“And now you need to sleep,” Emma says.

 

Regina lets Emma tug her head back down onto her chest and tangle their limbs together. She falls asleep to the reassuring sound of Emma's heart beating in her ear.

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina gets an hour and a half of sleep, not a second more. There is still far too much to do - calls to take from leaders of ally nations, and decisions to make about whether or not to open banks at risk of triggering a recession, and State governors to appease, and an endless list of other things that _she_ needs to be the one to decide.

 

Despite all of those things requiring her attention, one of her highest priorities for the day is visiting the bombing site. Tamara seems pleased with the idea and how that will be perceived by citizens who are still wary, but Regina is quick to clarify that this isn’t about anything but _respect_ \- respect for those that have been lost, for their families and friends in mourning, and respect for the first responders who are still there working tirelessly.

 

“I look ridiculous,” Emma grumbles.

 

They're in the Oval Office, getting ready to head out to the Capitol Building bombing site.

 

“They dressed me like I’m a white house sofa,” Emma adds, still grumbling.

 

Regina looks up from where she's been pulling on the kevlar vest Lance insists she wears. Emma isn't exactly wrong. The outfit certainly isn't her style and the jacket is rather baggy.

 

“It's to fit the kevlar vest underneath,” Tamara reminds impatiently with a look over at Regina that seems to say _can you deal with your wife or what_?

 

Regina doesn’t get a chance to say anything, the reassurance for Emma dying on her lips as Hope and Ry come into the room.

 

Hope eyes her curiously. “What are you wearing?”

 

She means the kevlar vest and Regina freezes, unsure how to explain without worrying her.

 

Emma jumps in, pulling open her too wide jacket to show Hope that she's wearing one too. “What _these_? They're to protect us in case we fall down.”

 

Hope’s nose scrunches up. “Okay, but why does Mama need one?”

 

Regina laughs while Emma scowls.

 

“Are you saying I'm more likely to fall down than your Mama? Because that is a blatant lie, missy. I am _not_ clumsy,” Emma says, still scowling comically.

 

Hope quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at her in an expression that is all Regina.

 

“Ouch,” Emma says, holding a hand to her chest like she’s wounded. “Back me up here, Ry,” she pleads.

 

Ry just shrugs, “Sorry, Mom.” His eyes flicker uncertainly to the vest she's wearing though and Regina catches the worry there.

 

His worry isn't so surprising, not with what happened last night, and not given the violent way in which he lost his first family. She moves over to him while Hope is distracted by Emma letting her punch her kevlar vest. Regina rubs his shoulder and whispers quietly, “The vests are just a precaution. Standard procedure. Nothing to worry about, I promise.”

 

His eyes study hers carefully, like he's searching for a lie. “Okay,” he finally says and she feels him relax under her fingers.

 

Regina squeezes his shoulder once and lets go. “Watch your sister while we're gone, please?” she asks him.

 

“Sure,” Ry agrees, wrapping his arm around Hope’s shoulders as she scampers away from Emma and back over to him.

 

“Oh and don't think just because we haven't talked yet about that party you went to with Violet last night, that it doesn't mean that we won't,” Regina adds with a quirked eyebrow.

 

“ _Mom_ ,” Ry groans. “Aren't you the President now? Aren't you too busy for lectures?”

 

“Nope,” Emma answers for her.

 

“What your mother said,” Regina agrees, taking Emma's hand. “See you soon,” she says to their children. “Love you.”

 

“Me too. I love you,” Emma echoes the sentiment to them.

 

“ _Go_ ,” Ry says but he's smiling and that eases something in Regina's chest.

 

Lance leads them out of the room then, talking into his sleeve, “Phoenix and Swan on the move.”

 

Emma looks at little startled. “Wait. We _both_ have code names?”

 

“Yes Ma’am,” Lance confirms.

 

Regina laughs lightly, squeezing Emma's hand. “Come on, _Swan_.”

 

“Hey,” Emma protests with a smirk, glancing over at Regina. “How do we know _you_ aren't Swan?”

 

“She isn't.” Lance settles the argument before it can begin.

 

Regina laughs at Emma's pout as they walk out the building to the awaiting mortacade.

 

In the backseat of SUV, Regina squeezes Emma's hand tightly. “This was the right decision, yes?” she's not even one hundred percent sure if she means going to see the bombing site or if she's still at least a little uncertain about remaining President.

 

“Of course it is,” Emma says without a second of hesitation. “It's exactly what the country needs to see right now.”

 

The certainty in Emma’s voice fills Regina, bolsters her. “I'm glad you're coming with me,” Regina admits.

 

“There's nowhere else I'd be,” Emma says, again without a second of hesitation.

 

Again Emma’s words calm Regina. Having Emma by her side makes her feel stronger, more capable, like she really will be able to guide the country out of this nightmare. She has no clue what she'd do without Emma. She leans over and whispers in her ear, “I love you, _My_ _Swan_.”

 

xxxxxx

 

**_(Present)_ **

 

Late evening of election night finds them at campaign headquarters awaiting the results. The place is buzzing with energy that seems more excited than nervous as people mill around, eating and drinking and chatting happily.

 

Regina’s whole family is here. Hope is chasing Lucy around, weaving around peoples legs, and narrowingly avoiding collisions more than once, while Henry calls, “Careful,” but without really trying to stop them - they’re feeding off of the excited energy in the room and there doesn’t really seem to be any point in stopping their fun.    

 

Ry, back from college specifically so that he could be here with them tonight, is chatting with Jacinda and Sabine, looking relaxed and so impossibly grown up.

 

Marian and Tamara are sipping wine, leaning against the far wall, heads ducked together, chatting quietly, undoubtedly congratulating themselves on a job well done, or perhaps just stressing about the results like Regina is.

 

Lance is near the door, watching the room carefully, but he smiles when Lucy bumps into him, steadying her before she topples to the ground.

 

Regina watches them all fondly from a couch in the corner she’s somehow managed to escape to. Nerves mount in the pit of her stomach as they get closer and closer to the polls being closed and the results trickling in.

 

Emma appears in front of her with two glasses of champagne, holding one out for Regina to take.

 

“Isn’t champagne a little premature?” Regina asks, even as she takes the glass from Emma, her fingers brushing against her wife’s and lingering.

 

Emma shrugs, smiling charmingly. “You need to relax.”

 

Regina scowls at that but Emma just laughs, dropping down to sit beside her on the couch, her side pressed to Regina’s. “Seriously,” Emma murmurs, kissing her cheek. “It’s going to be okay, either way.”

 

Regina closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, willing herself to believe that’s true. She blinks her eyes back open and sips the champagne slowly, drawing comfort from Emma's presence beside her.

 

And then, before she knows it, someone is calling out, “Here we go,” and the news station they have up on a big screen is starting to report on polls results.  

 

It takes all of fifteen minutes for the results to be clear. She’s won, by a landslide, and the room erupts in applause, the excited energy somehow reaching a new peak.    

 

“Told you,” Emma whispers in Regina’s ear, kissing her cheek and adding, “ _Madam President_.”

 

Regina smiles, happiness flooding her chest. She sets her champagne glass down, standing and offering Emma her hand to help her up off the couch.

 

Their family circles them before they can even move a step, and Regina hugs each of them in turn - Hope first, then Lucy, and Henry, and Jacinda, and Ry, and even Sabine, then Tamara and Marian.

 

She hugs Emma last, her arms sliding around her wife’s waist, her chin resting on Emma’s shoulder as she clings to her. “ _My Swan_ ,” she murmurs in Emma’s ear. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

 

Emma hugs her tighter and Regina is surprised to find that Emma’s eyes are shimmering with unshed tears when they finally pull back. The sight makes Regina’s own eyes shimmer, a sudden wave of emotion overcoming her as she recalls that horrible night she became President about four years ago. No matter how far they've come since then, no matter how much joy there is in this room tonight, what was lost that night will always have been lost, and Regina knows she will carry the weight of that with her forever.

 

Emma reaches out and takes Regina hand, lacing their fingers together and smiling softly at her, her eyes filled with understanding and love. They stare at each other silently for a beat, communicating in the way that only twenty plus years together really allows, and then Emma squeezes her hand. “Now, Madam President, I do believe you have a victory speech to give.”

 

“I do believe you’re right,” Regina smiles.


End file.
